MAX EBB — I
'm tough, but I'm fair. Perhaps not tough enough, because they keep asking me back to do the pre-race equipment inspections for the race to Hawaii. I've learned how to shave at least an hour off the time commitment: The boat has to be ready; otherwise I turn around and go home. That means storm sails bent on, emergency rudder deployed, anchor chain and rode run out on the dock for measuring, overboard gear set up, jacklines rigged, and all the required portable gear on display. The racers often complain about having to set the trysail, but if it were not for this requirement, the storm canvas would never be out of the bag 'til the first time it's needed, and that's the wrong time to figure out how it should be rigged. But truth be told, I do this mainly so I can find the boat in the marina. I just look for that international orange trysail or storm jib.
unclear which of us would be the victim. "Aloha, Max!" Lee shouted when I was still five berths away. "I'm, like, glad we drew you for our inspector. You'll understand what I've cooked up for the e-rudder."
The emergency rudder was perfectly adequate for course-keeping when the boat was balanced.
This was not the first boat Lee had helped prep for a Hawaii race inspection, and she knew how to make it run smoothly. First she pointed me to the fresh-baked brownies in the galley. Then she handed me a binder with a full set of the required documents. It even included y first victim this year was a big documentation for the battery replaceold IOR racer, refurbished for the race. ment date for the light on the Lifesling. But when I saw who was representing "All copies for you," she said."For the the boat for the inspection, it became Inspection CommitA small model emergency rudder, shown here deployed on a Merit 25, is tee's files." made from discarded windsurfer centerboards and the top part of a broken It was easy to run windsurfer mast. through the checklist. I couldn't even catch her on my favorite failure point, lifeline tension. "Seems a little loose," I said as I pulled transversely between the two most widely spaced stanchions. "You're only allowed two inches under eleven pounds of load." "Like, they changed it to nine pounds," Lee corrected. She was ready with a ruler and fish scale, although she called it a dynamometer. "See? Only 1.8 inches under eight pounds of force." She didn't get off as easily with anchor rode length. The anchor lines were run out on the dock for measurement, as requested.
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• June, 2018
But there was a knot in one of them. It had been pieced together from two shorter lengths of three-strand nylon. "Sorry, this is a fail," I informed her with some satisfaction. "Anchor rode has to be continuous, one piece, 200 feet long." "But, like, what's the logic behind that?" Lee complained. "We have the required total length." "I think it's because they don't want anyone to piece the rode together from spinnaker sheets and guys," I speculated. "They want a dedicated anchor rode, not used for anything else, ready in emergencies at full length." "That's what we have," she protested. "But there's also lost strength in the knot," I said. "It's a proper carrick bend," she countered.
